


Ah, Shit...Here We Go Again

by Dryya



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Crack Fic, Gen, Give F/N a raise for tolerating this bullshit, Kieran White needs to apologize before he gets buried in a trench, Lauren Sinclair lost her shit, Office drama, Poor man just wanted to take a shit in peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryya/pseuds/Dryya
Summary: The inside scoop by an unlucky individual, (F/n), who was unfortunately stuck in a bathroom stall when Episode 50 went down.orPOV: you're the dude in the stall when all the shit in ep 50 went down
Comments: 14
Kudos: 106





	Ah, Shit...Here We Go Again

One would expect that the secretary job in the 11th Precinct was more fulfilling than detrimental. And (F/n) was stuck smack-dab right in the middle. He was notoriously known to hear quite a lot through the grapevine, from a wide range of controversial gossip to subtle small talk. If you needed to be updated about any rumors flying around the 11th Precinct, (F/n) was your guy - although he would be reluctant about it. However, there was a downside to (F/n)’s “special” ability; (F/n)’s unfortunate luck led him to some traumatizing situations… but then again, who would not be after intruding onto a “heated” discussion between Hermann and March? (F/n) was merely sorting out the file cabinets in a shadowed corner of the archive room when this interaction occurred.

(F/n) didn’t _intentionally_ seek out these rather worrying situations - he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or would you say, the right place at the right time. It depends on the perspective. He was just lucky when it came to unfortunate situations.

In this particular case, however, (F/n) didn’t expect to hear some major bullshit...while taking a long-needed shit.

Let’s backtrack, shall we?

The time of the crime: (F/n)’s coffee break. The culprit? Absolutely no one. The victim? You could say it was (F/n).

Kym had yet again stacked up a pyramid out of the mugs. Setting that aside, (F/n) went to brew some coffee. There was quite the commotion going on down the hall. Hermann had explicitly told (F/n) earlier that the 11th Precinct was getting a new archivist. (F/n) presumed that this was the cause of Kym’s excitement.

He also needed to take a shit. And to take a shit he had to go _past_ the office to the restroom. The clamor was going to be insufferable.

Picking up a stray newspaper lying on the table next to him, (F/n) made his way to the bathroom. There was a slight drag in his footsteps. He knew he should have gotten more sleep, but with the increase in murder cases, it was almost impossible to get any.

As he trudged down the hallway, (F/n) could vaguely hear Kym’s muffled voice from the office.

“And we’re very excited to have _you_ here! Aren’t we, Lauren?”

Kym’s voice had a melodramatic and simpering edge to it. (F/n) sighed...He couldn’t comprehend how William Hawkes could leash this bouncing bubble of charisma without losing his sanity. Major props to him, nonetheless.

Shrugging, (F/n) pushed open the door to the men’s restroom, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. The door slammed shut behind him, and the rancid smell of chlorine, mold, and human excrement met his nose. (F/n) almost recoiled from the very stench. Whoever tended to the restrooms- if there was anyone - was doing a terrible job. Gagging, (F/n) went into a stall (one that looked _somewhat_ cleaner than the others). He barely sat down on the toilet when he heard the rapid _thump thump thump_ of footsteps approaching the restroom.

Someone else needed to take a shit, he guessed.

He guessed wrong.

The door aggressively slammed open. How it didn’t shatter was a lingering question on (F/n)’s mind, seeing that the battered door was on its very last hinges.

“ _You._ ”

“ _We_ need to talk-”

(F/n) heard two voices as the door slammed shut (again) - female and male.

A click of the lock. Great. More secrecy in this damn Precinct. (F/n)’s day was just getting better by the minute.

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor. A solid “WHACK” as the wind was knocked out of one of the individuals.

“Oh, _do we_? You better have a _damn good reason_ for me to not _shoot_ you.”

That voice belonged to Lauren, (F/n) realized, after he got over his initial shock.

“Look, I know you must be upset.”

A second voice. This time it was unrecognizable. (F/n) came to the conclusion that this was the new archivist, Kieran White, that Hermann was talking about.

The same voice continued: “Just wait a minute. Let me explain-”

His words were cut off with a _bam_ as Lauren (he assumed) kicked the man away.  
(F/n) heard Kieran slam into the bathroom cabinet.

“That the Leader sent you here to _kill them all_ like you did at the tower? I’m not gonna let you touch them.”

(F/n)’s eyes darted to the newspaper in his hand. _Mass murder at the tower._ His confusion and intrigue grew. He then heard someone stagger.

“Are you okay-”

“Don’t you _dare_ come near me. I will kill you if you ever touch me again. And if you had my ability, _you’d know I’m not lying._ ”

_Ability?_ At this point, _confusion_ was an understatement. (F/n) just blankly stared at the stall door with his thoughts running at the speed of light. Nonetheless, (F/n) continued to quietly listen to the conversation outside his stall.

“Look. I’m Harvey’s replacement. The new mole. I’m not here to kill anyone.”

“The new mole? Why _you_?”

“Look I-I didn’t want this either.”

“I don’t give a flying _fuck_ what you want! _How dare you come here?_ Is this another ‘ _hobby_ ’ you forgot to tell me about?”

“I only received my orders yesterday. I didn’t know.”

Then (F/n) began to wonder at this note: What type of Kdrama shit was unfolding in front of him now? Was this situation worse than Hermann and March? Probably not, but still, rather unsettling.

“How did you even get through the background checks? Our detectives comb through the files of all the new recruits. How could they not find anything on _you_ , of all people? You’re not even using a fake name.”

“I wasn’t the one that prepared the paperwork. I assume it’s because my civilian identity is clean. And that my apartment establishes a history of residence, so it’s not like I appeared out of thin air. It’s quite hard to create an entire fake identity _and_ make it pass the police background check.”

(F/n) was surprised that the two people didn’t hear the cogs running mad in his brain. The new archivist then went on to say something about the Phantom Scythe? And how he was assigned to kill _Lune_? Lauren taunting Kieran, _the Purple Hyacinth_ , into killing her? _What bitchass fuckery was this?_

“The deal is off.”

(F/n) heard footsteps, and the creak of the restroom door as it was opened and shut behind whom (F/n) assumed was Lauren Sinclair.

_Silence._

(F/n) let out a shaky breath (he wasn’t aware that he was holding it). Relief spread throughout his body. However, he was thoroughly confused, aghast, disgusted, stunned, baffled, and deadass so done with the scene that unfolded right in front of him. He really wasn't paid enough to deal with this shit.

And speaking of shit.

See, throughout this troubling event, (F/n) thought he was going to shit his pants from the fear of getting caught.

Apparently.

Now was the time.  


Now was the time to shit.

So (F/n) had finally taken his shit as planned.

With a wet _glomp_ of something hitting the toilet water, (F/n) felt relief. He reached for the toilet paper, but to his horror, his hand met an _empty and dry cardboard roll_. (F/n) froze, realizing a critical detail he had dismissed from his mind. He had forgotten that...he wasn’t alone in the restroom.

Now he was faced with two _possibly_ life-threatening choices: To speak up and ask _THE PURPLE HYACINTH_ for some toilet paper, or to (he felt ashamed for even _considering_ this option) casually leave the stall without wiping his ass.

After contemplating this nerve-wracking decision, (F/n) came to a conclusion.

Gathering up the courage with a small prayer to some higher power, (F/n) unlocked the stall door and opened it slightly.

“Hey...Mr. White? Can you pass the toilet paper?”

Note! I drew a short comic of the last couple paragraphs:  


[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189375311@N04/50126984263/in/dateposted/)  


**Author's Note:**

> This is licherally a crack fic — don’t take it seriously.
> 
> Oh yeah and the poor man got hit by a runaway car and got amnesia and forgot this exchange ever happened :)


End file.
